


Curiosity

by itsalwayssunnyit



Category: Watch Dogs (Video Games), Watch Dogs 2 - Fandom
Genre: Bi-Curiosity, Bromance to Romance, First Kiss, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Making Out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:13:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27697444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsalwayssunnyit/pseuds/itsalwayssunnyit
Summary: Wrench doesn’t respond for a few seconds and then he begins, “So...” and Marcus just knows something weird is coming on. He can only brace for it. “Wanna make out?”
Relationships: Marcus Holloway/Wrench (Watch Dogs)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 97





	Curiosity

“You mean you’re straight, then?” Sitara actually sounds surprised. Marcus grimaces. That’s not a conversation he’s _really_ had before and it’s definitely not one he had anticipated having with _Sitara_ , but Pride is just around the corner and it just kind of comes up. “Like, no pressure or anything. It’s fine if you don’t want to talk about it, just thought I’d ask.”

“Well. Actually, I-” Marcus starts and then has to put down his half-eaten donut, throat suddenly too tight to speak. It’s not that he’s embarrassed or anything, but it’s not like he’s used to talking openly about his increasingly ambiguous sexual orientation either. “I mean, I _was_ very sure I was straight… until very recently.”

“Bi-curious, then?” Sitara raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t seem all _that_ invested in her fellow hacker’s internal struggle. Marcus nods, mutely, picks his donut back up and just like that Sitara goes on to talk him into some grand new operation she’s setting up which should raise awareness about homelessness within the LGBTQ community or something.

And the thing is, Marcus thought that was a conversation between him and Sitara, right? There’s no such a thing as a private conversation inside a Hackerspace unless everyone else is out, though, and sometimes not even then.

So, naturally, people hear it.

More specifically, _Wrench_ hears it, and the way Wrench’s brain works is a very particular one, laser-like focus on a hundred different things at the same time and the fact that Marcus is not just another straight boy brings up so. Many. _Questions_.

So, at first, Wrench goes very quiet, which is quite odd for him. The most words he says all night is a dramatic ‘fuck yeah’ when Ray suggests someone should do a pizza run. Sitara says she’ll take care of it, but Josh has to tag along because, “he hasn’t seen fresh air in _days_ ,” and Ray has to provide beer, which the older man argues defeats the whole purpose of having someone go out instead of him, but ends up going anyway — probably out of fear of getting on Sitara’s bad side, who knows.

A few minutes after everyone leaves, a light bulb goes off inside Wrench’s head.

Marcus is still there, sitting on the couch and typing away at god-knows-what.

And Wrench is still there, so…

They’re alone.

Wrench starts to strategize then and there. First, he takes his vest off, leaves it on top of his workbench, and then moves to _casually_ sit on the arm of the couch Marcus is currently occupying.

“So you've never kissed a dude,” he suddenly says, also very casually — so casual, smooth like butter, someone should get him a prize. The metallic quality of his synthetized voice startles Marcus, almost more so than the fact that Wrench lets himself more or less fall backwards on top of the other hacker as he speaks, almost landing on Marcus’ computer.

“Yo, Wrench, what are you doing?” Marcus does his best to move out of his friend’s way, puts his computer down on the other side of the couch, but he still ends up with a lapful of Wrench. He glares down at the anarchist sprawled like an oversized cat half on his lap and hisses, “Personal space, dude?”

Wrench ignores him in favor of retorting, “I asked you a question.”

At first, Marcus just frowns, but then a look of fond exasperation comes onto his face as realization hits. “I _knew_ you were listening.”

Wrench snorts inelegantly.

“Dude, you and Sitara were, like, _right there_ , talking. It's not like I could help it,” he defends himself. “Also, you didn’t answer my question.”

Marcus rolls his eyes. “Why do you care?”

When Wrench shrugs, his shoulder digs into Marcus’ stomach. It’s not that unpleasant, but Marcus lets out a warning groan nevertheless because he knows from past experiences that at any moment Wrench can elbow him in the pancreas if struck by sudden enthusiasm or whatever.

At least he’s not as spiky as usual. One has to be thankful for the small miracles.

“I was just wondering. About the wording, mostly,” Wrench calmly says, his mask displaying two not signs as if to show how perfectly _uninterested_ he is in the whole thing. Marcus doesn’t buy it for a second. “Bi-curious means you haven't, right, otherwise you wouldn't be _curious_ about it. Right? Hah. I mean…”

Marcus chuckles, but his embarrassment is palpable in the way he’s avoiding looking at the other hacker. “Clever. We should get you a badge or something. Detective _obvious_.”

Wrench doesn’t respond for a few seconds and then he begins, “So...” and Marcus just _knows_ something weird is coming on. He can only brace for it. “Wanna make out?”

Marcus slowly blinks at his friend, unsure whether to feel concerned for his mental health or just angry that he’s taking the piss.

“Dude, are you fuckin' with me right now?” Marcus’s voice is very even. Wrench quickly moves up into a sitting position, very narrowly avoiding elbowing Marcus’s nose, but he’s still all up in Marcus’s space — not that Wrench has any respect for other people’s personal bubbles usually, anyway, but still.

Wrench raises both hands, mask displaying two exclamation marks.

“No, no! I would _never_! I swear!” It’s kind of difficult to take him seriously, though, and something must show in Marcus’ face because next thing he knows, Wrench is uselessly trying to move even further away, but keeps hitting the arm of the couch as he offers a hasty, “Hey, man, it's okay if you don't wanna, though, just... just forget I said anything, alright.”

Wrench’s mask can’t hide the flush that spreads as far as his neck, however, or the quiet, almost strangled quality his voice suddenly gains at the rejection Marcus hasn’t even had the chance of uttering.

When Wrench moves to stand up, Marcus pulls him back down with a pacifying, “No, Wrench... Wait. Come back here, man.” Wrench obediently sits back down, his right leg more or less on top of Marcus’s left, but he keeps his head down, his gaze fixed on where Marcus is still holding his arm. Marcus takes a deep breath. “Alright.”

The two X’s on Wrench’s mask turn into o’s that then turn into upper case ones as he echoes, “Alright?”

Marcus’s swallows and glances around nervously. “So— So you wanna… head someplace else, maybe?”

 _Smooth_ , Marcus thinks. He kind of wants to punch himself. His face feels hot and his words sound so goddamn _stupid_. He could swear Wrench’s blush deepens a bit, though, so at least he’s not the only awkward nerd here.

“Nah, it's cool, we're the only ones here now,” Wrench replies, the two big O’s still shining on his mask even as he moves to face Marcus more completely, chest tightening with equal amounts of apprehension and anticipation. He _really_ didn’t think this through. “Shit, we really doing this?”

“Apparently,” Marcus replies in a disbelieving huff of breath. He raises an eyebrow, “Why? Are you getting cold feet?” His right hand lands on Wrench’s knee, fingertips playing with the frayed threads of the ripped denim. Despite how playful he sounded a second ago, he’s very serious when he adds, “You know you can take it back if you want, man. I'm cool with it. Not gonna hold it against you or anything.”

“No, no, it's just...” Wrench sighs and raises a finger. “One second.”

It’s the third time Marcus sees Wrench’s face — the first was on that crappy camera feed, the second when he gave the anarchist his mask back. Marcus doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to it, though. Wrench only looks at Marcus when the mask is safely tucked away and even then their eyes only meet for a second before the blond man is looking away with a self-conscious little smile.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he groans and Marcus can’t help but smile as well.

“Like what, man?” Marcus asks, wrapping an arm around Wrench and pulling him closer. “Like I like your face, or something? Didn’t I just agree to make out with you?”

If Wrench was kind of flushed before, he is beet-red now, refusing to meet Marcus’s eyes until Marcus cups his face, fingers tracing his cheek softly and then pushing the blond strands away from his eyes. Marcus leans in a bit closer and , aware of the fact that seeing Wrench’s face is a permission not easily granted, takes it all in— the uncertain tilt in Wrench’s eyebrows, the bright blue of his eyes, the unintentionally enticing way his thin lips part.

Thumb tracing a line just under Wrench’s lower lip, Marcus has the overwhelming feeling like they’re standing just on the edge of something huge. One last time, he asks, “This ok?”

When Wrench nods, Marcus closes the distance between their lips.

The instant their lips touch, Wrench lets out a strangled little noise, half-relief, half-surprise, because Marcus’s lips? Are a _revelation_. And he’s such a _gentle_ kisser, tentative and slow, _careful_ press of lips even though Wrench is ready to climb him like a police station bathroom window. Marcus keeps holding his face in one hand, fingers lazily straying into his hair and then stroking the line of his jaw, while his other hand holds Wrench close as _if_ there were even a remote possibility that the anarchist would move away now.

Wrench’s spine twists sinuously and makes a loud crack as he throws a leg over Marcus’s lap and moves to straddle him in search of a better angle. He doesn’t pull away from the kiss as he does so and Marcus hums in appreciation, his hands slowly moving to slide up Wrench’s thighs and settle on his hips, thumbs sliding just under his sweatshirt. It’s such a small touch, but Wrench _shudders_ and subtly shifts the angle their lips meet, deepening the kiss. A pleased rumbling sound comes from deep inside Marcus’s chest as their tongues slide together. Wrench echoes it, shifting forward on top of the other hacker so that they can fit together more completely.

Wrench begins to lose track of time. One of Marcus’s hands is now _under_ his sweatshirt, warm palm pressed onto his lower back, keeping him right there where Marcus wants him, while the other ventures further up, its touch light and questioning.

 _Exploratory_ , a familiar voice offers inside Wrench’s mind.

 _Meant to satisfy his curiosity_.

“Good?” Wrench asks between one kiss and the next — he barely recognizes his own voice, pitched low and breathless as it is. Marcus doesn’t really reply other than nod blindly and drag him into another kiss, this one just a bit hungrier, just messy enough. The hand under Wrench’s sweatshirt becomes more daring and when it brushes against a nipple, Wrench breaks away from the kiss with a hissed, “Shit.”

Marcus is grinning at his reaction, echoing, “Good?” and then repeating the motion. When he takes the sensitive nipple between his thumb and index fingers, Wrench gasps and then bites down on his lower lip to try and keep quiet. There’s no hiding the helpless way his hips roll on top of Marcus’s lap, however.

“Shit, M,” he pants.

When Marcus slides further down on the couch, Wrench can very distinctly feel the shape of him, warm and hard. Well, it’s only a natural reaction, the anarchist reasons with himself, trying not to overthink how good it feels that he’s having _that_ particular effect on Marcus — that _Marcus_ , painfully handsome, dorky, fucking _heroic_ Marcus, is getting hard because of _him_.

A bit more than a few kisses and Marcus is grinding up when Wrench presses down, their lips crashing with wet, filthy sounds.

“Feels _good_ ,” Marcus whispers like it’s a secret.

“Yeah,” Wrench agrees, hiding his grin by biting down on Marcus’s lower lip and pulling on it until Marcus hisses.

More than just slipping away, time becomes a very distant concept then, especially after Marcus decides that sitting up is way too much effort and proceeds to push Wrench down onto the couch before climbing between the anarchist’s legs with a groan that sounds almost predatory. It sends a shiver of excitement down Wrench’s spine.

Marcus is heavy and warm and everywhere at once and Wrench can barely breathe but couldn’t care less as he wraps one leg around Marcus to pull him into a slow, dirty grind that has no right to feel _this good_. He’s pretty sure that once high school is behind you, orgasms are supposed to involve a lot less clothes, but he’s already halfway there anyway. Marcus keeps kissing him, his mouth and then his neck and even the shell of his ear as he whispers praise one second and moans deep and out of breath the next as they buck and thrust desperately against each other.

Wrench shivers, sobs pitifully and clutches at Marcus’s shoulders and resigns himself to come in his pants at this point, there’s no way around it. He’s chasing it, moaning when Marcus moans, shoving up when Marcus presses down, and nothing has felt this good in so long he almost doesn’t recognize the sound of the door opening.

Marcus does, though, because he’s sitting up with a comically shocked, “Oh, shit,” and then almost falling off the couch looking for his glasses.

For a very long moment, Wrench just blinks at the ceiling. Marcus offers him his mask and he feels more liquid than solid when puts it back on. Body still thrumming with pleasure — denied, postponed pleasure, but pleasure nonetheless — he sits up. He can hear Sitara and Josh talking as they walk down the stairs, but can’t for the life of him understand a word they’re saying. It’s like his brain’s been fried.

Marcus takes a seat on the couch next to Wrench, pulls his laptop onto his lap with conspicuously careful movements as Wrench just as unsubtly readjusts himself in his pants, crosses his legs and hopes for the best.

Behind the mask, he is grinning like a maniac.

“Why aren’t you wearing your vest?” Josh asks when he sees them. Sitara frowns, looking between the two suspiciously quiet hackers on the couch, but before she can ask anything, Ray comes in announcing the arrival of her Majesty’s requested beverage.

Even as they bicker over beer and pizza, however, Josh is still stuck looking at Wrench and Marcus.

“Why are you guys being weird?” he asks once or twice.

And, well, there are only so many times they can ignore Josh’s very pointed questions before things start getting awkward, so very soon Wrench starts packing up his stuff and announces, “Well, I’m headed to the garage.” Nobody pays him much mind. Except for Marcus, that is, who’s curiously following every move Wrench makes in what he obviously believes is the picture of discretion. Once the important stuff is packed away, Wrench takes a small step towards the stairs, a winking emote on his mask as he adds to Marcus, “In case you’re still, you know… _curious_.”

“Oh,” is Marcus’s eloquent response.

Wrench manages to swipe a couple of beer for the road while Marcus rushes to follow him. Just as Marcus is punching the door code in, they hear Sitara exclaim in sudden realization, “Hol’up a minute, guys!”

The sensible thing to do, then, is ignore Sitara’s rant about how she can’t leave them alone for _five minutes, goddamn it_ , and drag Marcus out the door, but Marcus is crowding him against the wall and Wrench is only human, alright, and, as long as no one tries to come after them, okay, just one more kiss and they’ll go, no biggie.


End file.
